Turn the camera off
by MaketheworldWrite
Summary: AU, M/M noncon/torture: Sort of an alternate torture scene, without Big Daddy. Contains rape.


Up until that moment, the most terrifying phrase in the English language had been "hold him". As Dave let his head fall forward, blood leaking freely from between his lips, he decided that it was a tie between "Baseball Bat" and "Knuckle duster". The harsh blue light blinded him, forbidding him any visual warning for where and when the next blow would hit. He'd stopped listening to the sounds around him, overcome by terror.

Another blow from the baseball bat, this time to his crotch, made him break down. Protected by the anonymity of the mask, he allowed full sobs to tear through his frame. Fists and weapons began to rain down of him, too fast and sharp to tell where they were coming from. His hands struggled against the restraints, fighting desperately to come up and cover his face.

Finally, he just began to go with it; the helplessness was suffocating. They all had guns; they could have ended this in the safe house and spared everybody the car ride. Tears and blood soaked his mask and he let out hollow, animalistic grunts. The colors of the room blurred together. Suddenly, he felt as if his face had been ripped off. He threw his head back, panicked until he realized that the blows had stopped; he'd been unmasked. Under the wash-out lights, his battered face turned toward the camera, looking directly at it with dead, swollen eyes. His mouth opened, as if he were about to say something, maybe an apology to his father, maybe a last "I love you" to his girl, maybe even a goodbye to his buddies. All that came out was another broken sob.

It wasn't until he was yanked to his knees that he was even aware of being out of his restraints and doubled-over on the floor. He tried to collapse, but his captor wound his fingers in the boy's hair, keeping him upright. The sound of a zipper pierced Dave's eardrums.

"No." The word came up like vomit, rushing past his lips, unable to stop, "No. no. no. no" Until it became a thoughtless mantra. Somebody was pulling his costume off, peeling away the blood-soaked fabric. Under the lights, Dave was a skeleton, pale white skin interrupted only by purple stains and deep red gashes.

"Turn the camera off" He begged, "Please, god…"

But the camera stayed on as the man pushed himself into Dave's mouth. The hands wound in his hair forced his skull forward and back, ignoring the whimpers and protesting gags. The ex-hero's hands hung limp at his side, hands turning into fists. The world was watching. At that moment, he no longer feared death.

Suddenly, he was allowed to breathe again. He gasped for air, praying that the next thing to enter his mouth would be a bullet. His head was smashed into the floor, nose first. The cold cement against his stomach made him tremble as the pants of his uniform were finally yanked all the way off. He waited for the gunshot, but was met with something far less comforting. The man's weight bore down of him, pinning him to the ground as he struggled, screaming out.

"Kill me!" He begged, "Kill me, don't do this!" Vomit rose in this throat; he was about to be raped. Rough hands pinned his shoulders as his arms swatted blindly at the assailant.

"Thought you'd be a hero, didn't you bitch?" The obscenity stung him harder than any of the weapons did.

"For god's sake!" He screamed, "Turn the fucking camera off!"

It was no use. Agony erupted from every molecule as the man entered him in a swift, violent motion. His body tightened, trying to reject the invasion as he writhed under the man. Blood ran over his thighs as his breaths became a series of gasps and whimpers, as if he were being strangled by invisible hands. Every thrust tore him open as blood began to lubricate his insides. His face burned from the shame as he let his body go limp, feeling the man moving inside of him, trying to focus on anything else. In his mind, he saw Katie. The thought of her face only sickened him more; he knew that she could see this.

Finally, the man finished, sending a jolt of pressure into the teen before pulling out. Dave was yanked to his feet as one of the men turned him around, forcing him to look directly into the camera. There was Kick-ass, a naked, sobbing 17-year-old kid; a ghost under wash-out lights, stripped of any dignity. He felt the blade of a knife press against his throat. As if to welcome its cold embrace, he tilted his head back.

It stung, like he knew it would. He was dropped to the floor as he choked and gurgled, bubbles of air arising from beneath the crimson liquid. A spray of red tainted the camera as Kick-ass bleed out, struggling to mumble a last word as he drowned in his own blood. All he managed was a final, pathetic plea.

"Camera… off…"


End file.
